


Where You Last Saw Me

by the_raggedy_adventurer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_raggedy_adventurer/pseuds/the_raggedy_adventurer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-series three. </p><p>Sherlock meets John behind the hospital after three years and.. well.. sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Last Saw Me

He was sitting in his chair, like always. John was never able to move the things in the main room, especially his things.  
John missed him. He fought that fact and now Sherlock is dead. He knows that he should have said something, but there was never a good time with Sherlock.  
From the clinic, after long hours of crying children and upset men and women, John came home. The loneliness of the flat ate into his mind and revealed the memories of his friend.  
The flat was always dark, and Sherlock’s things never moved. John could never bring himself to throw away the belongings of the man he missed.  
John entered his bedroom, ready to re-dress in some casual clothes. He notices a paper on his pillow; it has long thin scribbles across it.  
John’s eyes fill with the loneliness and longing of three years He hopes. 

Dear John, 

You really should have cleaned up the place. I thought that after all this time you would have been rid of my things. Interesting.  
Obviously you have some sort of attachment to me.  
Anyway, I still need a partner, and I’m back in London. Your replacement died in Turkey.  
Meet me behind the place where you last saw me, 20:00.  
-SH

John let the letter shake in his hand, the sun setting and the sky growing dark.  
Eight o’clock approached. John was angry and hurt, yet hopeful. Maybe his friend really is still alive, maybe he doesn’t have to be lonely anymore. Maybe he can finally kiss Sherlock like he dreamed about when he closed his eyes.  
He grabbed his coat and ran out the door, not caring that he bruised his knees against the entryway, not caring that Mrs. Hudson was yelling for him.  
He ran.  
John halted behind the hospital the place where Sherlock jumped, the place that began his sadness.  
Frantically looking around, he saw only shadows. He knelt against the hospital wall and wept. The tears left his body along with the hope of his returning friend.  
“Interesting. Weeping for me, John Watson?”  
That sly, hushed voice could only belong to one person. John looks up and stands. Grabbing Sherlock he slams him against the wall in the alley, pushing his lips to Sherlock’s, letting the loneliness leave his eyes.  
Sherlock doesn’t protest the obscene, affectionate gesture like John thought he would. But John doesn’t want to regret anymore, and he kisses deeper.  
Sherlock returns the enthusiasm, throwing his tongue deep into John’s mouth, exploring the places that he missed the last three years.  
John can feel his pants tighten, caging years of want. It rubs against Sherlock’s leg and he responds immediately, leaning in towards John.  
He reaches down, slowly cupping the bulging prick over the trousers. John hip’s buck forward and he simultaneously moves his head in further, kissing deeper still.  
Sherlock reaches up to John’s face clutching the man pressing him against the wall.  
Thoughts of public eyes never enter the minds in this alley, only thoughts of closer, more, together.  
Sherlock pushes his hips back against John’s, rutting their pricks together desperately. John moans, and Sherlock breaks the kiss just to smirk.  
A few moments pass, just staring at each other, unbelieving that this is actually happening.  
Sherlock, not breaking eye contact reaches down again, this time slipping his hand into John’s pants. He grabs the wet prick, and John arches his back in response. Sherlock strokes the underside while pulling it out of the cage. Still looking into each others eyes, John nods his head, letting Sherlock know that everything will be okay.  
Years of want, years of dreaming and hoping, all lead up to this moment. Dreaming maybe, but this cant be real.  
John starts to move again, trying to match the rhythm with Sherlock’s hand. He stands on the edge of comfort and crippling need. John threw his head back, letting Sherlock work his fingers along the length of his leaking length.  
John lets out a slow and hush Oh gosh. He comes, coating Sherlock’s hand and lower shirt with the release.  
Sherlock lets John rest, just for a moment. He quickly takes John’s hands, guiding them toward his own desire, itself reaching forward longing for John’s touch.  
Pushed again against the wall, Sherlock simply pleads while John pushes his body against Sherlock, allowing him to grind awkwardly against Johns abdomen.  
Not able to wait, Sherlock grabs John’s shoulders and switches their positions, John now against the wall, but facing it, rear toward the alley, toward Sherlock, waiting.  
Sherlock reached downward, grabbing John’s ass, rubbing his trapped dick between the cheeks. Sherlock lowered John’s pants more, revealing the soft harbor. Sherlock quickly unzipped his trousers, keeping his pants on, but releasing his hard prick. Using some of John’s spill, still warm in his hands, he inserted two fingers slowly into John. John moved upward, not used to the foreign feeling.  
Sherlock scissor the fingers, quickly preparing John. He removed his fingers, slowly, and John whined softly through his clenched teeth.  
After only a moment’s pause, Sherlock thrust upward, sinking himself deep inside John. Sherlock’s vision went blurry and he made quiet adjustments to his mind palace, a room just for this moment.  
“Move… please”, John stammered out, needing to feel friction and heat.  
Sherlock snapped back to reality and started slowly sliding out, watching John’s eyes close while his mouth opened. Keeping his head motionless, watching John, he stealthily moved his hips in and out.  
John was almost fully hard again, never had he felt something like this before.  
Sherlock could feel, low in his abdomen, that time was running short. His thrusts turned sporadic, desperate with need. All at once he released himself in John, grabbing his shoulders and digging deep into his skin.  
He stayed in John for a few minutes, just staying with him, content.  
Then slowly, he pulled out, and both of them zipped their pants and quickly looked around the alley for any potential public eyes.  
They then made their way silently, towards 221B Baker Street.  
When they reached the flat, John looked up toward Sherlock, “Glad you’re back” he said, smiling cheekily, knowing that everything is okay again.


End file.
